Here Kitty Kitty
by margaret aka whymelucylu
Summary: Twisted and silly little Halloween crossover one shot that myself and Basketcse dreamed up for you. Enjoy it or not. Warning-Cupcake and cat Unfriendly...


This is a strictly twisted little Halloween ditty and extremely Cupcake unfriendly. It's an AU crossover borrowing a character named 'Bubba' from the Charlaine Harris Sookie Stackhouse books. Many of you know who Bubba is and for those of you who don't, here a is a little description. He is actually the fat Elvis who fell off the can and croaked. A vampire who was a fan brought him back, but he did it a little late and Elvis the Pelvis came back a little weird. He did not want to be called Elvis, so they just named him Bubba and he liked it. He only sings to himself and likes to eat cats. He kind of wanders into Trenton in this little short...

Here… Kitty Kitty

Joe's POV

I hate October. Every damn year people go crazy and weird shit happens and who has to deal with it? The Trenton police. This year one of the freaky cases I got stuck with really took the cake. First, we're getting all these complaints about missing cats in Chambersburg. My own neighborhood. I had heard about it through my mother and her gossip mill. I hadn't paid any attention because I didn't have a cat, I had a Bob and I was in homicide. Then I get a call last week. Cupcake, in her bumbling had found a DB or dead body while looking for a skip in the 'Burg'. Leave it to Cupcake to zero in on the weirdest shit ever.

I arrived at the scene as it was being secured and the Medical Examiner had already been called. Stephanie and that ex-prostitute that she calls a partner had already left by the time I got there. I opened the front door of the house on Rusling Street and walked into a mini Graceland. There was Elvis Presley memorabilia and shit everywhere and the place had been torn up and the dead guy was laying on the floor face down in what looked like a freaking real Elvis jumpsuit with the ass ripped out and his hairy blue butt was sticking out of it.

The ME guy walked in behind me and looked around and chuckled and said, "Cool! Hey, Morelli. You caught this one?" I just nodded. He kneeled next to the body and snapped on some gloves and looked him over and then looked up at me.

He chuckled again and said, "Take a look. There are fucking teeth marks in this guys ass and judging by the look of him, he's short some body fluids."

I grimaced and kneeled down and looked where he was pointing. All of a sudden that butt opened up and then a loud obnoxious fart erupted and set us both back on our own asses. I grabbed my nose and gasped out, "What the fuck? Is there something dead in there too or is it still alive?"

He just shrugged like it was no big deal. "Decomp gases. It happens. Your lucky day, huh?"

He started chuckling again. Smartass. ME guys... Known for being weird.

I went through every inch of the house and then out to the garage and that is when I really thought I would lose my lunch. I went to my TPD issue piece of shit Crown Vic and took a swig of maalox and grabbed a bandana for my face and went back to the garage. There were dead, dried up cats everywhere. What the hell? Is this some kind of joke? This doesn't solve my homicide case, but it sure solves the missing cats case.

I sighed and began the arduous task of interviewing witnesses, the part of my job that I hated the worst unless I was on Stark. At least I could get a decent BJ while interviewing a witness there.

After two hours of house to house interviewing, only one old lady with a seriously lazy eye remembered a frequent visitor to the house of the deceased. All she said was that he looked like the big Elvis and he shuffled and hummed Elvis songs and every time she saw him, he was holding a cat. So this guy must be the catnapper. Big question was is he also the butt biter?

I called Steph to tell her that Bob and the boys were really missing her and again she tells me that she has a job to do with Manoso. We've been in another off again phase for a couple weeks after a stupid argument. First, there was the ridiculous conversation about the hair on my ass. She grabbed it during a round of balls to the wall, hot gorilla sex and she knocked me off my mount right when the going was good. She said my butt was all of a sudden growing hair like a Bigfoot's butt would be preparing for winter. I told her that was just stupid and she demanded that I get it waxed or else. I had asked or else what and she declared no sex and said that even hairy gorillas had smooth asses. That's it! We are not watching Animal Planet because Bob wants to ever again.

Well, then I told her that hell to the no, I would not get waxed. Straight guys don't do that shit and camouflage is a good thing unless you're a homo and she called me a bigot and told me that this whole thing was probably the result of my Grandma Bella putting the eye on her again. Jesus. H., it had ended up a big blow up. Arms waving, cursing, doors slamming and then she was gone. I had looked down at my poor swollen dick and said, "Well, you can blame the ass for this one." Then I had just sighed and grabbed a Penthouse and headed to the bathroom.

I got a call the next day from the coroner that the dead guy, aka Roland Dattilo Jr. had died from heart failure due to the fact that all of his blood had been drained from him. It was a homicide. Jesus Christ. How do you make that happen without leaving a drop at the scene?

I was working two more cases and stayed to catch up on paperwork when a call came in through dispatch from a little old lady that said a creepy guy tried to take her cat and she pulled her six shooter out of her housecoat and got a shot off. She said the guy dropped the cat and scurried off, but she heard him crying outside somewhere. Fuck me. Why do all the little old ladies in the 'Burg' carry guns in their purses and housecoats? We have incidents once a week because they shoot at everything, even the fucking ice cream trucks because the music wakes them from their naps. Most mailmen in this country worry about being attacked by rabid dogs, not being shot by trigger happy little old lady's.

I jumped in the Vic and called for back up and headed to her house. I went to the door first to let her know I was there so she wouldn't take a pot shot at my ass or any of the officers on the scene. Then I searched around the house and out the back and all of a sudden I heard a seriously pissed off cat scream and then a hiss at another nearby house. Shit. Must be my guy.

I hopped a fence and then climbed another as the commotion got louder. I flipped on my radio and gave my new location and walked around the house and there was the guy with his head stuck under the house. He said, "Here, kitty kitty."

I cleared my throat and said, "Yo pal, you want to come out from there. You're under arrest." That guy stood up lightning fast and fucking hissed at me. Fuck me! That wasn't the cat hissing, that had been the guy. His eyes were glowing and the pupils were dark red and he opened his mouth and a set of goddam fangs dropped down. Aghhh..shit! Fuck me for sure. I pulled my weapon and aimed it. "Don't take one step toward me or I shoot! Against the house wall and put your hands behind your back."

He came at me anyway. Dammit! I pulled the trigger and he halted for a minute and then kept coming. I shot him again and he staggered a couple seconds and then stretched his arms out like he was grabbing for me and kept coming. The picture of those teeth marks in that blue ass flashed across my brain and I knew even my camouflage wouldn't save my fine Italian ass here. I screamed like a bitch and got off another shot as I was backpedaling as fast as my feet would move and if he didn't stop this time I would be leaving a mark in my BVD's.

Finally, the troops arrived and descended on him. It took five of us to subdue his crazy rabid ass and cuff his hands and feet. When he was finally secure in a cruiser, Big Dog and Carl came over to me and asked, "Hey, that girl scream we heard..?"

I turned and flipped both the fuckers off as I was walking away to get in my car.

When I got to the station, the next day, Big Dog walked in my shitty little office that I shared with three other detectives and he was laughing. "Man, listen to this shit. That weird suspect you booked, the Bubba guy, he scared the shit out of a whole cell full of gang bangers last night. Staff on duty said that those guys were screaming and crying like fucking babies begging for somebody to get them out of that cell."

That sounded bizarre and familiar. Knowing him, he had to be just bustin' my balls. This had been a fucked up case from the get go. Okay, I'm game. I made a face and asked him, "What exactly happened."

He snickered again. "They said that fat Elvis first got under the cot in the cell and laid down with his hands over his chest like he was a corpse or something and starting humming 'Are you Lonesome Tonight' and then he starting crying for his kitty cats."

I put my hands on my hips and sighed. "He doesn't have any fucking cats, he ate them all!"

He said, "Wait, I'm not finished. They evidently started messing with him and he jumped up and bit one of the gang members. Just sunk his teeth into him and started sucking on him, man. That's when the riot almost started. They went nuts in that cage."

I said, "What did the officers on duty do?"

"Took six of them to pull Bubba out and isolated him. He did have fucking blood all over his face and the guy he bit ended up a couple quarts low. Had to transport him to the hospital to get topped off."

I shook my head. "Every Halloween the freaks come out of the woodwork."

Big Dog turned to leave and then turned back. "Oh yeah. The guys are calling him Melvis. You know because he's yours."

I glared at him. "I don't fucking get it."

"You know like Bennifer. Morelli-Elvis, Melvis."

I barked at the asshole. "Get out!"

He guffawed and turned and walked out.

Steph and me, we had been talking, but we hadn't had a chance to get together. After the last few days trying to clear up that seriously fucked up case in my own neighborhood that started with her, I was ready for some private time and some hot Cupcake lovin'. She owed it to me. It's been more than 72 hours since I last saw Stephanie. We had communicated via text and she was with her partner, in the form of a tattooed man named Hector. Even I know better than to talk to her when he's around. Tonight, she had another job with Manoso.

Since my plans had no chance of coming to fruition on this night and my dick was contentious and growling at me, I decided to pick up a working girl and maybe head to a local bar. I could get drunk and get a lot of shit out of my system. I picked up this girl from stark street. They were on a number system now rather than a name to thwart arrests and they all had different ones depending on their specialty. I happened to like number 77, my favorite girl, aka Neicie. She's a fun time, although she is a little ditzy. Gave good head and let me in her back door when I knocked. That was something cupcake never let me do. We went to a local bar and had been slamming some shots back and that girl can drink let me tell you. Between the two of us, the bar tab was really running and racking up major cha-chings. I was now glad that I had my ATM card with me tonight. Weeeoo. I was feeling no pain.

I was lost in my thoughts, thinking of Neicie's fingers high on my thigh inching closer to the land where big bobster and the boys lived, when all of a sudden I heard several male gasps. Looking up, I was stunned to see what all the excitement was about. The girl that had just strutted into the bar like she owned it, just happened to be my girlfriend. Shit. I never knew black leather could look so good. Why the fuck had I never seen her in leather before? Those boots had laces on them and I wanted to take them off with my teeth. Wait a minute. I thought Steph told me that she had a job to do tonight with Manoso and his crew?

I watched with my tongue hanging out as Steph continued her strut to the bar and called out a drink request to the bartender before she even got there. "Vodka rocks, handsome," she said in a sexy and silky voice that I had never heard before. What the hell? I did a double take that I hadn't done earlier tonight. Is that Hector bartending or someone that looked just like him? Man, I must be really drunk. He slid the drink toward her and got a wink in return. At this point I was pretty sure she didn't even know I was here.

All of a sudden she turned her head my way and looked down at the hand sitting directly over my dick. Steph looked surprised for a couple seconds and then smirked and raised her glass and silently saluted me. That sneer on her face set me off and I was about to set her straight about a few things when a guy approached her. Then I felt a hand squeeze my dick and looked down and realized that I had nearly forgotten all about Neicie the prostitute even being there. Fuck!

The guy was dressed in leather with a jacket on that had a familiar bike club name on it. He sat down on the stool next to her and gave his order to the bartender and then gave her his full attention. He said, "Please tell me you didn't ride here with company and if you did will you ditch the bastard for the night?"

Cupcake put her hand on her hip and moved closer to him and whispered something in his ear and a wolf grin spread across his face and his hand moved to her other hip. I growled an order for another shot at the Hector look alike and he grinned at me and looked at Stephanie like he was enjoying himself. It was him. Fucker. What would he be doing moonlighting as a bartender anyway?

I downed the shot and heard a giggle and turned to see the biker guy's hand move to her ass and down and then under her short leather skirt. This is not how my woman behaves, dammit! Then I heard her moan and looked down as she wiggled her butt like she wanted more from the fucker. My temper flashed to nuclear level four meaning there is a fucking serious situation here and there are going to be consequences. I stood up just as I heard her say, "So, are you ready to take me home heartbreaker and show me your stuff?"

Oh hell no! I pushed her out of the way and sent my fist right into his smirk. I didn't give him a chance to reply to her. She yelped and growled out my name just as I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned and landed a punch to that guy. One fucker right after another started coming at me and I thought I recognized a few of them. I heard a guy yelling, "What the fuck, man. I thought you told me this would be a quiet and professional job and I let you use my fucking bar! I'm calling the cops."

Now, nearly the whole bar was fighting and I saw a familiar face walk through the flying fists and grab Cupcake. Manoso! What's he doing here? The biker guy was being pulled out of the bar by a couple of his thugs now and I took off after Manoso as Neicie started screaming at my back, "Wait Bobster! I thought you wanted me to play fetch the big bone game with you with my hands cuffed behind my back..."

When I got to the door, I was met with a wall of TPD. A rookie wall of TPD. I didn't know one son-of-a gun. Son-of-a bitch! It took all of two minutes before the finger was pointed at me and I wasn't even given a chance to pull my badge. I was being carried off to jail.

When we got there, Robin Russell was on duty and she laughed and didn't say a word. I said, "Come on, Robin. Don't book me. We'll have that date and that special night. Please?" She snorted and stamped the paperwork and took my cuffed arm and handed me off. Bitch!

They did isolate me because I was TPD police which was standard. I asked the officer on duty if he would please let me shower to get the blood and booze and shit off me and he nodded and walked me there and shut the door. I grabbed a towel and a bar of soap and went in. It was late and quiet. I could have a nice long shower.

I was soaping up and it slipped out of my grasp and dropped to the floor. I bent over to retrieve it when I heard humming from behind me. It sounded like, 'Burning Love' by Elvis Presley and then I heard. "Mmmm. Yummy. Here, kitty kitty…"

Then I screamed like a girl as sharp canines sunk into my ass and started chewing on it like a rabid animal.

Two days later:

Trenton News Herald

A plastic surgeon has been consulted in conjunction with the Trenton police detective aka Melvis and the heinous gluteus maximus shower attack. He is currently in stable condition at the St. Francis hospital. When interviewed, his ex-fiance, local celebrity Stephanie Plum just shook her head and said, "The last thing I told him was to get that thing waxed. Another woman called to ask the reporter of the story if the 'Bobster' was still okay. To this, we had no comment..."

Currently, Bubba laid calmly in state under his cot in the TPD cell waiting for his next meal to arrive singing, "One fo' the money, two fo' the.., three to.., now..hmm..hmm..mmm.. ..um..um… You can do anything, but you ain't gonna' take my cats."

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a/n this is sorely intended to see if you spew...hows that?


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